My Wives are Beautiful Demons

[Bar Without a Name]

"I'm busy," a woman said coldly, not lifting her eyes from the stack of documents in front of her. Sitting at a cluttered table, Rosseline continued writing and signing, as if the presence of the werewolf who had just entered was utterly insignificant.

Ethan, however, didn't share the same indifference. He sat across from her, arms crossed, his gaze locked onto her face, even though she stubbornly ignored him.

"Speak quickly, Ethan. I have work to finish," she said, not even glancing up.

"Oh, Rosseline," Ethan began, a sarcastic smile curling his lips. "Don't treat me like that. Our last time together... it wasn't that bad, was it?"

Rosseline finally looked at him, her eyes cold and calculating. "If memory serves, last time, I nearly castrated you because you thought you could cross a line I very clearly told you not to."

There was a moment of silence. Ethan raised his eyebrows, clearly remembering the event but choosing not to respond directly. Instead, he changed the subject.

"Who was the demon that touched my brother?" His voice, though controlled, carried a menacing weight.

Rosseline sighed, turning her attention back to the documents. "No one important. Just one of Morgana's playthings."

Ethan slammed his hand on the table, making a sharp noise. His eyes glinted intensely, revealing a flicker of his wild nature. "Some random demon nearly killed my brother and disappeared with an incredibly famous mage. And all you have to say is, 'just a plaything'?" His voice rose slightly, laced with frustration.

Rosseline finally set down her pen, clasping her fingers over the papers. Her gaze was as sharp as a blade, piercing through Ethan's.

"You're not here for information, Ethan," she said, her tone cutting. "You're here to vent your anger, to find an excuse to unleash the beast you try to hide. But let me give you a warning: Morgana isn't someone you can just 'handle' like you do with others."

"And who says I can't?" Ethan shot back, leaning forward. "My brother nearly died because of this. You think I'll just sit and let it slide?"

"I think you need a plan, not a testosterone-fueled show," Rosseline replied curtly, picking up her pen again. "But do as you wish. It won't be my neck on the line."

Ethan fell silent for a few seconds, taking a deep breath to control his anger. He knew Rosseline wasn't one to speak without thinking, but that didn't make the situation any less infuriating.

"I'll figure it out," he muttered, standing up. "And when I find that plaything, you'll hear from me again."

"Don't keep me waiting too long," Rosseline replied, not even looking up.

Ethan turned and left the bar, the heavy sound of his boots echoing through the room. Rosseline watched the door close behind him, letting out a heavy sigh as she rubbed her temples.

"Werewolves... always so predictable. I'd better give her a call..." Rosseline sighed deeply, her slender fingers sliding into the inner pocket of her coat and pulling out a sleek, discreet phone. With a quick gesture, she unlocked the screen and quickly found the contact she was looking for: "Fiery Wolf."

She hesitated for a brief moment, frowning as if the very idea of the call was bothersome, but she soon pressed the call button.

On the other end, after a few rings, a deep, energetic female voice answered.

"Rosseline, what is it now? Don't tell me the world's ending again."

Rosseline let out a small, sarcastic laugh. "Not yet, but depending on your brother, we might be heading that way."

The voice on the other end grew more serious. "Which one? Never mind—it's Ethan, isn't it? What's he done now?"

"He hasn't… yet. But he's about to throw himself into something way above his level."

There was a pause on the other end, followed by a heavy sigh. "Go on. What happened?"

Rosseline leaned back in her chair, her fingers drumming on the table. "He was just here, huffing and puffing about someone touching his little brother. I tried to talk him out of going after the person, but… it doesn't look like that's going to happen."

"It's about Morgana, isn't it?" came the voice.

"Exactly," Rosseline confirmed, her tone growing firmer. "He doesn't know yet, but… a man went after Morgana. And you and I both know that things never end well when Morgana is involved. The problem is…" She paused, her voice dropping. "The person is the new Demon King."

A sharp cracking sound came through the line, likely something being crushed in a moment of frustration.

"He's my brother, but sometimes he's a complete idiot!" The voice was laced with both frustration and genuine concern.

"That's why I'm calling you," Rosseline continued. "I know the two of you have your differences, but he's all you have. And, frankly, the last thing I want is a situation where you lose your brother… and I lose one of the few reasonable allies left in this world, Alexa."

There was a deep sigh on the other end, followed by silence.

"I'll handle it," Alexa finally said. "He won't listen to you or anyone else, but maybe… maybe he'll listen to me."

"Do it quickly," Rosseline warned. "He's already on edge. And you know how Ethan gets when he's like this. He won't think. He'll just act. And acting against the Demon King…"

"Is suicide," the voice finished. "I know. I'll get to him before he does something stupid. Thanks for letting me know, Rosseline."

"Don't thank me yet," Rosseline murmured, her tone growing darker. "Just bring him back in one piece. And, preferably, without starting a war."

"I'll do my best," came the reply before the line went dead.

Alexa exhaled deeply, her lungs still burning after an intense training session. The clang of weights hitting the floor echoed through the gym—a secluded, worn-down space, but still functional. It was the only place she could train without interruptions.

She rubbed her face with her hands, trying to shake off the tension. "Stubborn idiot…" she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

Sweat trickled down her face, dripping onto the concrete floor as she leaned on a weightlifting bar, her gaze fixed on a distant point. Worry for her brother was beginning to eat away at her focus. Explore more stories at empire

After a few moments, she huffed and walked over to a small, rusty steel locker where she kept her belongings. Opening it, she grabbed a water bottle and took a few long gulps, letting the cold liquid cool her heated insides.

"Ethan, Ethan…" Alexa whispered, shaking her head as she slammed the locker shut. "Always getting into trouble, always thinking you can handle everything on your own."